Enchantment Passing Through
by quisty8616
Summary: Like silver linings in storm clouds, the truest stories are always hidden under the ones that history remembers. But are they meant to last, or are they simply enchantments passing through?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A story in five parts. Spoiler alert! You have been warned.

Part One takes place between the battle at Draklor Laboratory and Giruvegan. Parts Two and Three take place after the Pharos. Part Four and Five take place after the battle with Vayne Solidor.

He walks in from the rain outside, water running down his face in rivers. He's sopping wet; his shirt clings to his arms like a second skin. He eyes the cuffs of the shirt and sighs sadly; the expensive silk is ruined. _Just my luck_, he thinks. Taking a mental inventory, he remembers that most of his shirts are ruined or dirty with the countless escapades he's been on lately. And now, what with the soldiers even more on the look for them, how will he manage to buy more? He sighs; sometimes, life is so very difficult.

Turning carefully so as to minimize the amount of water he sprays around the Strahl's cargo hold, he leans against the doorframe of his ship and stares out through the veil of rain at the Dalmascan Estersand. The barren, rocky landscape is strangely haunting in the misty rain that spatters the sand, lit to a pale grey by the early morning light. His footprints are quickly being obscured by the overlapping circles left by the raindrops.

In truth, Balthier is enchanted by the scene, though he'd never admit it to anyone else. Most of his life, he's tried to avoid the Estersands, whether in the rainy season or not. Growing up in Archades to the north, he's always been more at home in cities. And this endless desert is quite possibly the farthest thing from that. But perhaps it's the exotic aspect of it that he finds so mesmerizing now.

"It's raining?" Ashe appears behind Balthier, her eyes dull with sleep. She wears a blanket wrapped around her thin shoulders and her hair is tousled, a strange sight on the usually well-kept princess.

"I would venture that 'raining' is an understatement," Balthier says, "It seems more like a flood, in my opinion. Has the last rain in Dalmasca been in recorded history or are we witnessing a miracle?"

"It rains in Dalmasca," Ashe replies with slight indignance, "But remember that you are in a desert. Do you expect it to rain every day?"

Balthier raises one hand in defense, "Touché. Perhaps you, as queen, could command this downpour to desist. It is quite impossible to fly in this mess and it shows no sign of lightening."

"You ask much of me, Balthier. I'm not queen yet."

Balthier laughs, "How presumptuous of me to think a mere princess has control over the weather." He turns his attention back to the Estersand, though still aware of Ashe's presence as she moves to stand at his side. "Still," he says, "I can't say it is unwelcome, after such a long time in the dry heat."

He expects Ashe to rebound with a sharp remark, but to his surprise, she sighs peacefully and says, "I agree. It is peaceful." She rests her hand gently on the Strahl's frame and turns her eyes to the rolling clouds overhead. "It's been too long since I really appreciated that which I am trying to protect and serve. Sometimes I wonder if I've forgotten…" She trails off, as if suddenly aware of her surroundings or her upbringing. The pattering rain is the only sound until she sighs heavily, "To tell the truth, I do not mind the delay. We all could use a rest."

Bathier remains silent as he studies the solemn princess. She stares out into the rain, her eyes slowly waking from sleep. But rather than drinking in the surreal desert scene (which, as he thinks about it, is likely not at all surreal to her), her gaze drifts beyond the rain, beyond the sand. He has no doubt what she sees is not her beloved Estersand, but the trials before her, lying in wait across the far reaches of Ivalice.

"You'd do well to follow your own advice, Princess," he says without thinking. He curses his slippery tongue, usually so under control. Antagonizing her is all well and fine, but not when she is so disarmed as this. He blames the rain for his suddenly loose words.

She turns her heavy gaze toward him, one eyebrow raised critically. "And what would you know of it, Sky Pirate?" Her voice bites on the title she only uses when she is angry with him. "You seem to understand the inner workings of a woman's mind so well. Pray tell me how to find peace in these troubles of mine."

Balthier's shoulders sink, the only outward sign of his regret over his choice of words. "In my experience," he says slowly, embellishing his words as best he can, "If one has a problem of your magnitude, the best remedy for clearing one's head is to find a distraction." He shrugs dismissively, "I can only speak for myself, though."

"A distraction…" Ashe muses, pressing one finger to her cheek in a graceful moment of indecision. "The trick, it would seem, is in finding something more distracting than Vayne Solidor." She offers Balthier a weak smile in the way of an apology, "If you think of one, let me know."

He bites back his first impulsive, indecorous response. She looks innocent enough, but if anyone should know that appearances are exceedingly misleading, it is Balthier. Is she setting him up, he wonders? Baiting him for a response she can react to with justified fury? Or is she serious? He sighs. When did he become so damned tame?

"I'm sorry about your father," Ashe says unexpectedly, causing Balthier's thoughts to reel. He'd nearly managed to dull the encounter they'd just left from in Archadia, the meeting with the father who was so… gone. And thanks to Her Royal Highness, it was all for naught.

She casts a wary glance at him, waiting for him to respond. She judges his reaction while pretending not to look at him, perhaps hoping he will let the issue fall. But respond he must. His mouth feels clumsy as he speaks. "My thanks," he says, "Although they have come six years too late."

Ashe blinks, stunned by his cold response. He notices her fretful gaze turn back to the rain and he adds, "The father I knew was not the power-hungry man you saw. I only wish you could have met my father. You would have liked him, Ashe."

Ashe's head snaps up, her heart skipping a beat at hearing her name in Balthier's Archadian accent. Doing her best to remain surreptitious, she studies him from behind her eyelashes. Her mind is a swirling mix of emotions; she is confused when the emotion that surfaces to the top of the chaos is one she cannot identify.

He pretends not to look at her. Even Ashe, with her limited experience with this sort of thing, can see where his glances are aimed. Though he's significantly dryer than when she came down to the hold, his hair and clothes still drip slowly, like a metronome, onto the metal floor. She has a sudden urge to touch him, to feel the warmth of his body through his wet shirt, to prove that this is not just a waking extension of her dreams. She shakes her head to clear the impulse and pulls her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Balthier's eyes wrinkle with amusement. He takes a step back from the door and stretches his arms over his head. "I'm afraid I must leave you now, Princess, before your desert rain gives me chills. Would you like the hatch left open?"

"No," Ashe answers softly. She doesn't move as Balthier presses a button on the wall and the Strahl's cargo door closes with a mechanical whirring. The door draws up in front of her, a theatre curtain closing on a scene. "Balthier," she says, catching him just as he turns to leave.

He turns back, waiting quietly.

She takes a moment to respond, stunned into temporary silence by his eyes meeting hers. "Thank you," she says finally.

"For what?"

"For distracting me," she says, a smile playing on her lips, "If only for a moment."

He blinks, trying to decipher her meaning. Then he smiles mischievously, moving back to Ashe's side with just a few fluid steps. "It was my pleasure," he says, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. He bends and places a quick kiss on her cheek, light as a feather. He lingers for a moment too long, then turns again and vanishes into the dark cargo hold.

Ashe watches him go, her mind a whirl of shock, indignance and….something she hasn't felt since before Rasler died. She touches her cheek where she can still feel his breath on her skin and she frowns.


	2. Chapter 2

At noon, the Balfonheim sun glints on the water like diamonds, almost too blinding to look at directly. But Ashe does anyway. She leans on the windowsill of Reddas' mansion, heart heavy despite the rising dawn. _The hour draws near_, the words toning in her head over and over with the heavy sound of a bell for days now. The Sun Cryst is destroyed, but the cost is nearly overpowering. She had known Reddas but a short time and his role at Nabudis had been the cause of her greatest tragedy, but still...She cannot help but feel grief for her newest ally, her newest friend. _Such death_, she thinks, _Over and over, without end...all for a stone._ Walking in this now-hollow house where Reddas once lived, Ashe feels her resolve to save her country and indeed, all of Ivalice strengthened anew.

"If only this infernal waiting would end," she laments to a nearby bust of an anonymous old man. Just over the horizon, not very far at all overland, waits Vayne Solidor. _He waits for me_, she thinks, her restless feet carrying her from the library to points unknown. She walks without seeing, instead letting her body carry itself until she finds herself on the street walking toward the border where Balfonheim gives way to the Cerobi Steppes beyond. Then she realizes: she is going to the Strahl.

Ashe takes over, letting her mind wander as the grass brushes her legs in soft swishing strokes. Between her mind and her body, it appears she can only fully control one or the other. She releases her mind like a kite into the breeze and marches swiftly up the Strahl's ramp and into the ship's interior.

She notices a dull clanging sound echoing in the ship's corridors as soon as she is out of the prairie winds. She follows the sound curiously until she finds her way to a gaping hole in the floor of the ship. A floor panel has been set aside and the clanking is rising up from it. Ashe leans over the hole and sees faint movement beyond.

"Fran, the wrench."

Ashe freezes. She peers around her at the tools that lie scattered around the floor. The wrench? She picks up a potential candidate and hands it down the hole.

More clanking and then a disgusted sigh. Rustling in the hole precedes Balthier as he pulls himself up out of the hole. "Did the wrench grow legs and walk away?" he says as he stands up, "Or did you forget...oh." He nods in greeting, "It seems it was not the wrench but my assistant that grew legs and walked away." He is wearing old oil-stained clothes in place of his normally elegant garb and with good reason; his face is as streaked with oil as are the clothes. Ashe cannot help but notice the clothes leave his arms and chest quite bare. She looks away hastily.

"I apologize," she says, gesturing to the tools on the floor, "I am not familiar with... Well, I did not know to which one you were referring."

Balthier notices her flightly gaze and looks pleased. "I can't very well repair my ship in my good shirt, can I? Should I slip into something more decent?"

"I...No, you..." Ashe stammers and finally settles on, "Do as you wish. It is not my place to judge."

"In that case," Balthier picks up the wrench off the floor and shows it to her, "This is the one I need. Would you mind if I return to my ship?" She gestures vaguely and he accepts it as a yes. She watches as he jumps back through the floor and resumes his clanking.

Ashe stands in confusion for a moment, unsure of whether she should leave or stay. Finally, with nothing better to do, she sits down near the edge of the hole where she can see Balthier where he works. It briefly occurs to her that he might suspect ulterior motives for her placement there, but she dismisses them. After all, what does she care what he thinks?

"When will we leave this place?"

"As soon as the leader deems it time to go," Balthier replies without looking up.

"I wasn't aware we have a leader."

"That is what the leader always says, if she is a good one."

Ashe considers this. "You think I am the leader?"

"Who else? This is your quest, princess. The rest of us are just riding along on the winds you stir up."

"I thought we all worked together."

"Do you not wish to be leader?"

"No. Not of this group. I wish us to be equal."

"But it is good practice, no?"

"Practice?"

He looks up at her, a note of mischief in his glance, "Practice for your next job, of course." He notices her long silence, "You are still planning on regaining your throne, are you not?"

"Of course!" Ashe replies indignantly, "Do you doubt it?" Balthier shrugs noncommittaly. Ashe watches him as he works. He moves with such careless grace, even when he is covered in oil, she observes. The events at the top of the Pharos seem to have had no effect on him. He even hums a little as he works, sporadically, like music drifiting in on the breeze. But Ashe cannot believe he feels no remorse at the passing of his father. The memory of her own father's death is still painful when she allows it to surface. And not only did Balthier's father die, but he, all of them, they...

She does not allow herself to trespass into those thoughts. They did what was necessary, the next logical step in what has turned into a quest to save all of Ivalice, instead of just the tiny desert country in the middle that she happens to be responsible for. Still, seeing Balthier's face now keeps the image of him then fresh in her mind. The hopeless sadness in his eyes as he spoke to his father for the last time... Can he really heal his emotional wounds that quickly?

She wonders what it would be like to live as he does, to be free of all connections and expectations the world tries to saddle you with. But then she is forced to wonder, would she give up those responsibilities which are her birthright for freedom?

"You seem deep in thought, princess," Balthier says, "I am able to lend an ear if you would like to unload your troubles."

"My troubles are not the sort that can be unloaded."

"Suit yourself, princess."

"...Balthier?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever tire of the title you carry? The expectations it brings to you?"

He chuckles, "Which title is that?"

"Sky pirate."

"'Tis a mark of pride to me, princess. What expectations would I tire of when they are all ones I have brought upon myself?"

"Just because you bring expectations on yourself does not mean you cannot tire of them."

He considers this. "True enough." A pause and then, "I return the question to you, princess."

She falters a bit, then answers, "I give the same answer as you. I look forward to my choices."

"Forgive me, princess, but you are lying."

"Says the thief among us."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"...Not that I know of."

"You wound me! I have never lied! It is against my nature. Hand me that screwdriver, the long skinny one near your knee."

She does so. "Forgive me. I do not mean to be so spiteful. But how can I tire of the choices I've brought upon myself?"

"You hold yourself at such high regard, princess, are you not afraid of vertigo? Of course, the choices you make can bring about results that you wish you did not have. But unless you bitterly regret those results, I would not consider it wrong to doubt your chosen path once in a while. It is human nature, after all."

"So you believe I am allowed to wish for something else?"

"As long as it does not consume your being." He glances up at her, "What is it you wish for? If you'll forgive my impertinence."

She is silent, rolling his question over in her mind. "Love," she says finally.

"Love? Can a princess not have that?"

"It was mine once, a love that I thought would last forever. Rasler and I, we loved for such a short time, but it was enough to stay with me." She absently rubbed the spot on her finger where her wedding ring had been. The gesture did not escape Balthier's notice. "Now he is gone. How was I to know we were not to last? And now, I have nothing to remember him by."

"What nothing? You have memories."

"We'd talked of children...of our children's children."

"Ah."

"I'm sorry. This is all more than you wanted to hear."

"I will listen to anything you have to say, princess, if you will forgive the fact that a sky pirate such as myself has little experience in these matters."

"Do you? How old are you, Balthier?"

He laughs, "How old do you think I am?"

"...Old enough to have thought about the future."

"A diplomatic answer. Just what I expected from you."

"Do you not want a family? Will you not settle down one day?"

"A sky pirate without a sky? What would that make me?"

"You would become a husband. A father. Part of a family."

"I had not considered such a life for myself. I do not think I would make a good father, to be honest."

"You think so?"

"I had a poor role model."

"Oh." She is quiet, watching and listening once more. "My mother died when I was young. I have no role model of motherhood and yet, I do not doubt my capabilities. I do not think a role model is essential to being a good parent."

He puts down his tool and looks up at her, his gaze steady. She notes the amusement in his eyes a tad too late to brace herself. "Are you proposing we start a family, princess?"

"I...No, nothing of the sort!" She scoots back from the hole, distancing herself from the accusation. "We are discussing; I was merely volunteering my opinion."

Balthier laughs, but does not reply otherwise. The conversation trails off, giving way to Balthier's clanking tools. Ashe peers into the hole. "What are you doing, exactly?"

"Exactly? That is a dangerous question," Balthier replies, "But I am repairing the Strahl's glossair rings. You are welcome to come see for yourself."

"Down there?"

"You can't very well see from up there."

She considers, then throws her legs over the edge of the hole. With a little sigh, she pushes herself off and lands unsteadily on the grate below. Balthier holds out a steadying hand and she takes it, her feet stinging a little from the impact.

"I didn't think you would really come down," he remarks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Then you thought wrong," she retorts, glad for the opportunity to contradict his expectations like this. She feels suddenly playful, receptive to Balthier's usual teasing comments. She smiles coquettishly at him and moves past to the wall of dials and pipes that he was working on. "Explain it to me then."

"If your grace commands," he replies and sets to pointing out the various mechanisms, using the screwdriver as a pointer. She is very aware of him as he speaks and after a few moments, finds it very hard to pay attention to his words. The space is not large and he stands right behind her, almost in an embrace. She can smell his cologne mingled with the scents of the ship, a strange combination, but not unappealing somehow.

She rests a hand on his bare arm, feeling the muscles move under his skin as he gestures. He pauses at her touch, waiting for her cue. She turns to face him. "Balthier," she says, meeting his eyes with her own, "Would it be reckless to ask a favor of you?"

"That depends on the favor," he says.

"Kiss me."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, "What?"

"Kiss me. Please," she adds as an afterthought.

"You are serious," he chuckles lightly, disbelievingly.

"Yes."

He pauses briefly, then opens his mouth to speak. But before anything comes out, there are footsteps and clatter from above. Balthier looks away and when he looks back, Ashe has ducked out from his proximity and is looking up at the hole.

"Vaan, you said he was in here!"

"He was! Fran sent me to help. She wouldn't lie, would she?"

"Vaan and Penelo," Balthier says softly, studying Ashe. She looks slightly embarrassed. He brushes her cheek softly. "Later," he says, "We will continue this later." This heartens her a little, but her cheeks are still red as he laces his fingers into a step and helps her pull herself back to the main area of the ship.

"Ashe," Penelo remarks, "What are you doing here? Is Balthier..."

"On my way," he remarks as he pulls himself up. "So, how can I offer my assistance to the the young sky pirates in training?"

"Vaan wants to go follow that mark that we picked up last week," Penelo says, "The one in the Lhusa Mines?"

"You can't tell me you don't want to go, too," Vaan interrupts, "They say it's Gilgamesh. I hear the rewards are unbelievable!"

"You aren't the only one on this ship, Vaan. You have to consider what other people want."

"I am considering! I'm sure no one would mind some new gear. Considering what's coming up..."

Following the sounds of the voices, Basch appears in the corridor, considering his friends with mild interest. "We are discussing our plans?"

"More or less," Balthier says, "It's a rather one-sided conversation at this point."

"Vaan wants to go chase after more marks," Penelo explained, "What do you think, Basch?"

"I say it depends on what Lady Ashe wants to do," Basch said simply. Over the clamor from Vaan and Penelo that results, Balthier leans over toward Ashe and whispers, "Defer to the leader, wouldn't you say?" Ashe frowns at him and moves away.

Finally, Balthier interrupts the other conversations in a loud, clear voice, "Well, Princess. It would seem you are the decision-maker. Where will you turn these wayward sails?"

Ashe stares heavily at him, sure that his question is further proof of his teasing nature. Yet she sees the truth in his words. She lifts her chin, "We will prepare ourselves and confront Vayne as soon as we are ready. It is time we end this war."

To Ashe's slight disappointment, everyone agrees with little debate, even Vaan, who had his heart set on acquiring new treasure. She sees now what Balthier meant when he called her the leader. Perhaps because she is royalty, or even because, she worries, that she is overbearing at times... Whatever the reason, somewhere over the past eight months, she unofficially nominated herself as in charge. She sighs helplessly; little can be done about it now, after all.

The Strahl clears quickly after the decision is made. Vaan and Penelo chase each other off to some other part of Balfonheim. Ashe follows their lead, wishing to be alone for a while more than anything now. She glances at Balthier as she turns to leave, flashing him a look of indeterminate meaning. He merely smiles brightly at her, as if nothing had changed between them.

At length, Balthier is left alone with Basch, who leans against the corridor wall in silent contemplation. Balthier and Basch have never been on friendly terms. Balthier does not dislike him; he and the former knight are simply too different, in his own opinion. He nods amiably to to Basch and bends to return to his work when Basch says, "She likes you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lady Ashe. She likes you."

Balthier's only reply with a look that shows he was already quite aware of this fact.

"You knew?"

"I had an inkling."

"I understood you to be aloof."

"I am many things, but aloof to women is not one of them, I assure you."

"What will you do about it?"

Balthier considers the question, "I have yet to decide, to be honest. The matter has just recently come to a head and so I have not given it serious consideration."

"You will be careful, of course."

"Careful? I do not believe 'careful' is in my character description. I will not cause the princess intentional harm, but when one plays with the fire of attraction, one must take a risk, don't you think?"

"I meant for you," Basch straightens and prepares to leave, "I do not profess to be an expert on you, but you should know by now that Lady Ashe is restricted by many things." He frowned slightly at Balthier's amused reaction, "Must I be more clear? She cannot be with you in the end."

Balthier could not even try to hide his mirth. "Are you warning me not to fall in love with the woman?"

Basch says nothing. He rests a hand on Balthier's shoulder briefly, gives him a look and leaves. Balthier frowns, lost in faint surprise and confusion. He'd never been warned against caring too much for a woman. It is simply not his way. His first reaction is to scoff at the warning. But something gives him pause and instead, he shakes his head and returns to the glossair rings.


	3. Chapter 3

When evening falls, Ashe excuses herself quickly from dinner and hides herself away in Reddas' library. Her heart hurts as she peruses the books, remembering Reddas and the sacrifice he'd made for them all, for all of Ivalice. The house rings with his memory; Ashe half-wishes she could stop thinking about him. But this library and the memory of the man who had been its owner is enough to help Ashe calm the sea of her thoughts, chaotic as they are. She vows to come back here after her coronation. If no one wants these books, she will care for them, giving them a new home in the Rabanastre Palace Library. Or perhaps, she wonders, they would be better served as a public library, for her people to learn from and enjoy. The idea makes her happy; it was one Rasler would have liked very much.

She does not hear the door open and is oblivious to the arrival of the sky pirate until she turns and sees him studying an old thick-papered book with fraying corners, as if he had always been there. "What are you doing here?" she says, her indignance unjustified but equally uncontrollable.

"Looking for a book," he says without looking up, "Even scoundrels like myself read once in a while."

"Yes, but..." she sputters, at a loss for words. She remembers their conversation from earlier that day and her cheeks flush. It had been foolish to speak to him the way she had. Now it had suddenly become of utmost importance to get as far away from the evidence of her carelessness as possible. When she becomes aware that he is watching her while pretending he isn't, she lifts her chin and moves with dignity toward the door. On the way, she clips her arm on the corner of a table and sets the already precariously balanced piece of furniture to wobbling. She steadies the table with as much grace as she can muster and, cheeks now flaming red, hurries for the door. This cannot possibly get any worse, she decides until...

"Ashe." In an instant, she is frozen, her heart nearly stopping along with her feet. "Surely you know how rude it is to leave a room so quickly after another has entered," he says, giving up all pretense of perusing the books.

"I have things to do," she says, "As do you, I should not wonder. Tomorrow is a busy day."

"Indeed it is. And you're right, there is something I must do before tomorrow morning."

She does not answer, so he continues, "Something that was actually started by you, I believe."

"Balthier," she sighs, "Please. Let us just forget that this afternoon ever happened."

He chuckles, "Such a sudden change in attitude... However did this come about?"

"Because I was not in my right mind. I did not mean the things I said."

"What a shame," he says, "I'd even prepared that which you requested. But if you don't want it anymore..."

Ashe whirls to face him, unable to believe her ears. She expected teasing, ridicule flat-out rejection, anything but the warm smile she now faces. "Ashe," he says, brushing her chin lightly, "You always look so sad. Have I ever seen you smile? Can you ever be happy again?"

She feels tears well over her eyes, "So much heartbreak, it is not easy to forget." She touches her chest, feeling the pounding of her heart, proving that she still lives, "But there is still the seed of happiness inside me, I am sure of it. Someday...:

"Could you let that day be today?" Baltheir interrupts, silencing her with a kiss.

Ashe lets the kiss wash over her like a hot desert breeze. Emotions she had long since given up for dead stir and awaken within her. After Rasler's death, she'd built such barriers around her heart, she'd thought that no man could ever traverse them. But in the end, it took a man of the sky to do what no other could do. She rises up to meet him, her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to close the gap between them. And in the end, she got what she wanted. Her title, her duties, her responsibilities...and her woman's spirit. Perhaps, she thinks as she loses herself in the kiss, I really can have it all.

Balthier wakes to the sound of seagulls, a very unusual alarm clock. He opens his eyes to darkness and rolls back over without a second thought. Daylight means wakefullness. If there is no daylight, he can continue sleeping. A simple thought process, really. But it soon occurs to him that this is not his claustrophobic room in the Strahl. It isn't even his room in Reddas' house. He sits up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning." A woman's voice, soft and familiar. He follows the sound to a blanket-wrapped woman standing near the window and he remembers. She faces out toward the sea, her hair and shoulders pale silver in the rapidly fading moonlight. He smiles, "Good morning yourself, princess."

She frowns, "Still the title?"

"Forgive me. Old habit. What would you prefer instead? My darling, my goddess, my love?

She grins secretly at the last, but says, "No, those are titles still. Can't you just use my name?"

"It combines all into one," he says, "It's perfect. Ashe."

She comes to him a the sound of her name, settling herself opposite him on the bed. He's fallen back on the pile of pillows, half-dozing and satisfied with the knowledge that she is nearby. She admires him in the faint light, approving of the way the shadows highlight his lean body. "Can I ask you something?" she says cautiously.

"Ask me anything," he says, his eyes closed as he lounges over the pillows, "I burn to answer your every question."

"You are teasing me."

"Always."

She sighs, her heart no longer into the topic. His teasing seems to mock the question and it hasn't even left her lips yet. She turns her gaze back to the window. The sun is just breaking over the ocean horizon, casting faint orange glows over everything in sight.

He opens one eye, "Your quesiton?"

"It is not important. Forget I mentioned it."

"That is what you said about the kissing and look at what you almost missed out on."

"The prize of your company in bed?" she chuckles.

"Why, yes," he says, tracing lines down her arms, "I'm glad you think so. And I received a comparable prize, I believe." He takes her hand and brushes her fingers to his lips, "So you see, you should always speak what is on your mind, especially when in a situation such as this."

He wants her to ask her question, she knows, but she can no longer do it. She studies his face, then kisses him warmly instead. He moves to pull her against him, but she sits back, facing him, her hand resting on his knee. "What will you do once we've defeated Vayne?"

She is surprised when he allows the subject change with scarcely a raised eyebrow. "You are very confident. There is a chance that we will lose and he will execute us all. Then it hardly matters what I will do."

"What a depressing thought," she sighs.

"Of course, that won't happen. Should he defeat us, I, being the hero of this story, will escape and rescue you all from the gallows at the last minute. And you," he taps her nose, "cannot die. For you are the leading lady now."

"Who was before?"

"Fran."

"Oh, of course."

"But after I rescue you from certain peril and defeat Vayne and the entire Archadian army single-handedly, _then_ you ask what I will do?"

She giggles at his dramatic predictions, "Yes, do continue! What happens in Act Two?"

"How can I top that?" he says, "After such a legendary feat, I will have to retire. Maybe I will train new formidable sky pirates to plague your royal fleets."

She nods thoughtfully, "Then you will never return to Archades?"

"That place ceased to be my home years ago. And now, with Dr. Cid gone, I hardly think I would receive much of a welcome. Actually," he adds, "Even with Dr. Cid there, I would not have been welcome anyway. No, Archadia is but another port to me."

"Would you say the same about Rabanastre?"

He is silent, his expression serious. Then he smiles, "No, perhaps not anymore."

They stare at each other, neither daring to break the silence. Finally, with a sigh, Ashe settles herself against Balthier's side, curling herself to nestle against his body. He rests his arm on her shoulders, holding her to him. His fingers graze along the bare skin of her arms, her shoulders, her back, her neck. She shivers happily in response. Outside, the songbirds are beginning to sing. Balthier dreamily hums a song, fading in and out as he dozes.

"What song is that?" Ashe raised her head. She recognizes the song from the day before, in the Strahl, "It's pretty."

"I've forgotten the title, but it is from an opera my mother loved." Balthier spoke-sings, slightly off-key.

_There'll be no ties of time or space to bind me_

_And no horizon I cannot pursue_

_I'll leave the world's misfortunes far behind me_

_And put my faith and trust in something new..._

"I like it," Ashe says. Balthier squeezes her shoulder in response. "Why must this day begin?" she laments suddenly, "When the sun rises, you and I..."

"Will be the same people we were last night and the same people we are now," he finishes her thought, "Do you think something as this is so easily erased, Ashe?"

"Then I will ask my question now," she says.

"Finally!" he exclaims,"Keep me in suspense no longer!"

She sits up with a huff and he soberly corrects himself, "I apologize. Go ahead."

She takes a moment to organize her thoughts and says finally, "Do you...that is, would you ever consider staying in Rabanastre?"

"But that is not your question," Balthier smiles knowingly.

"Yes it is. Did I not phrase it as a question?"

"You did, but that is not what you want to know."

She crosses her arms with a disgusted sigh. "If you are so clairvoyant, please tell me what it is I wish to know."

Balthier studies her as she waits with annoyance. The sun has risen over the windowsill and it cascades into the room with the brilliance of the new day. Ashe sits silhouetted in the light, surrounded by a glittering halo of light. Her pale hair glints silvery-copper and she positively glows, despite the scowl on her face. Baltheir remembers Basch's warning from the day before and he realizes with sudden epiphany that he failed to heed the knight's advice. He sits up and takes her hand in his. It is calloused from her years of sword-work, not like a princess' hand should be at all. He realizes that more than anyone he has ever known, he respects the woman in front of him, admires her strength of spirit and loyalty to herself and her beliefs. _When did she sneak up on me_, he wonders, _when did she unravel me so completely?_

Ashe's scowl fades as Balthier's silence lengthens. She looks at him with concern, "Balthier? Are you all right?"

"Ah. Your question," he says, "Your question is, 'Do you love me?' and the answer, despite all the odds against it, is yes."

Ashe cannot speak; she stares wide-eyed until something clicks inside her and she laughs, her frst real laugh in years. She throws her arms around Balthier's neck and kisses him with such wild ecstacy that he can't help but laugh himself at her very un-princess-like behavior. The force of her embrace throws them both back against the pillows and the bed's headboard with a dull crack. Ashe winces, "We mustn't wake the others..."

Balthier rubs the back of his head where the headboard made contact with his skull, "If you don't kill me with your happiness first."

After some examination, Balthier's head is determined to be sound, or in Balthier's self-teasing words, as sound as it had ever been. It is also decided, though primarily by Ashe, that Balthier must leave immediately, before they are seen together. "They already know, I assure you," he complains as he dons his clothes.

"Perhaps, but they don't need any visible proof. Not yet, anyway," Ashe replies. "Besides," she continues as she helps him lace up his vest, "It wouldn't do to have Reddas' servants and others see. Word would travel and..."

"Ah, you are ashamed of me. Perfectly understandable; I am a shameful rogue, am I not?"

She pokes his ribs, "That isn't something to be proud of. And no, it is not shame. You know that I am not just one, Balthier. If you mean what you said, if you intend to stay with me, there are certain...accomodations that must be made."

"Ever the pragmatist. Of course," he says, "I understand."

"I cannot afford to be unpragmatic. You know," she says, "I would understand if you...well, if you could not stay. My situation is not an easy one, I know."

He turns her to face him, his expression serious. "Ashe, I am a man of honor..."

"You are a pirate."

"And you're ruining the dramatic moment."

She bites back a grin, "I'm sorry."

"And a man of honor always means what he says." He grins, "A leading man never abandons his lady."

She smiles up at him, holding back tears of happiness with all her queenly restraint. "Now go," she says finally, "I will be down presently."

"As you wish," he says, sweeping a bow. As he rises, he kisses her lightly, but lingeringly. When he is gone, she prepares herself for the day, humming his song as she works.

A/N: The song in this chapter is a part of "Enchantment Passing Through" from the Elton John/Tim Rice version of Aida. I own it not; it just seemed to fit. While we're on the topic, I don't own Final Fantasy XII, either. I doubt they'd prosecute, but y'know...


	4. Chapter 4

The Bahamut is sinking fast, listing to one side. Balthier can feel it tilt under his feet and he worries briefly that the angle will soon become impossible to move along. If that happens...well, he chooses to ignore that train of thought. The sounds of the massive airship falling to pieces around him are loud and enveloping; every screech and crash sends tremors through the air that resonate in Balthier's chest, in the very breath in his lungs. He knows enough about airships to know that the repairs he made to the glossair rings will not hold forever, just enough to move the Bahamut away from Rabanastre. The ship will crash, there is no denying it. The only question now is what happens once this metal beast of the sky meets the ground.

Still, in the face of such certain destruction, Balthier remains optimistic. Life has always taught him to wear his calmness on his sleeve, even if inside his emotions churn like a squall over the ocean. Panicking never solves anything, after all. Where would he be if he'd allowed himself to panic like a frenzied child? He hefts Fran's unconscious body into a more secure position, pushing onward. Though she is thin as denotes her race, the viera is tall and no easy feat to carry through a listing ship. If he can only get her out of the cloud of Mist that has settled over everything, she will be able to recover. But the trick, he thinks, is getting there.

He follows the Bahamut's corridors to dead end after dead end. He grows more worried by the minute. Surely there must be an escape ship...a lifeboat of some sort. How can there be nothing? He curses Vayne's ineffectual airship design. "If I'd been captain of this ship," he says to the unconscious Fran, "We'd have passed several dozen escape measures. Remind me to send a harsh word to two to Larsa when we get out of this. He really should look into the safety measures on his war fleet."

After the sixth dead end, Balthier can stand it no longer. He gently sets Fran down against a wall and slides down to sit on the floor himself, dust on his clothes be damned. He is out of breath, the lights are flickering madly, and he can feel the spectre of panic setting in. "Just a moment," he says, "Just a short rest to clear my head." Fran stirs. A good sign. He squints at the air, which still shimmers with Mist, but it does indeed feel thinner somehow. He gives up rapidly; he cannot see the Mist, he can only make vague guesses. And he has more important things to do.

He remembers his father's last words to him. 'Fool of a pirate.' Perhaps the old man had been right. It had been foolish to steal aboard this Imperial deathtrap. He hadn't even known he was doing it until he looked up and found himself in the engine room of the Bahamut. His feet had lead him here without any input from his common sense. If that isn't foolish, he doesn't know what is. He chuckles wryly. He could say the same thing about the entire mess he'd gotten himself into over the past year. Chasing the magicite, following in his father's footsteps despite his best efforts to completely avoid that path. Meeting Vaan in the Rabanastre palace had changed the entire course of his life. Hells, it had changed the very nature of his character, from what he could tell as a heavily biased observer. Meeting Vaan had lead him to where he was now, sitting on the floor of dying Imperial warship next to an unconcious viera with only the thought of _her_ on his mind.

_Her_, but not the woman he had left on the Strahl just minutes earlier, her worried eyes locked on the sky outside the ship's cockpit window. That side of her was not what Balthier wants to remember. In his mind, she will always be the smiling, happy angel he had woken up to just...had it really been just this morning? She smiles at him, her hair shining in the light and her eyes glittering with content happiness. He hopes with all his heart that she will once again find reason to smile like that. But it will no longer be himself as the cause, or the recipient.

Perhaps it is for the best, he thinks. She could have never been with him. Her advisors would not have stood for it; how could the people of Dalmasca have supported such a breach of tradition? While still the son of a highly esteemed Archadian noble, a consort that was also a thief, a pirate, a reputed womanizer, and an Archadian to boot would have been a less than ideal choice. He doubts Ashe would have let him go so easily had he returned to Rabanastre at her side. She would have fought to have him legitimized, battled for his acceptance. She would have become divided from her council and put the already tremulous peace on which Dalmasca rested in danger. All for love.

Balthier had never been opposed to love, not as an idea. It was when love got in the way of life that it began to worry him. He had fallen in love with Ashe, to be sure. More than anything, he wishes that he could see her once more, though in a better location than where he currently resides. Her voice over the radio, just before the equipment broke, was so pleading and sad... He wishes he could hear her voice in happiness, see her smile once more for him. But he knows her almost better than she knows herself. Her capacity to love is great, but her capacity to rise above her pain is greater still. She will rise above the loss of himself magnificently, he is sure. She will lead her people with grace and wisdom, just as she was born to do. He only wishes he could have said good-bye.

He looks over at Fran, his partner for all these years. She looks to be peacefully asleep, completely unaware of her surroundings. Her beautiful viera face, so cool and unreadable...he suddenly realizes that he has almost given up on them. What would Fran say if she saw him like this, for god's sake? "What am I doing?" he asks himself incredulously. He stands up and lifts Fran into his arms once more. "Let's go, Fran," he says as he presses onward into the ship, "It wouldn't do to let the story end this way, would it?"


	5. Chapter 5

The coronation of Lady Ashelia B'nargan Dalmasca is unlike anything the citizens of Rabanastre had ever seen. The feeling of hope is high, for the beloved princess had risen from the dead and, against all odds defeated the Archadian army, freeing her people for the first time in three years. Yet a dark cloud hangs over the event. Memories of how this story had begun resurface and as the circle closes, the time for final farewells is upon the people once more in the face of this new day.

Lady Ashelia is resplendent in her traditional blue coronation robes. She walks solemnly through the halls of the palace, a picture of regal serenity. One of the first things she'd been taught as a child was to control her emotions. A princess who cries or laughs excessively can hardly be taken seriously and a hysterical princess is unheard of. She knows better than to let her emotions run wild.

She is accompanied by her newest lady-in-waiting, a young woman with blonde hair and an innocent face, but who surprises everyone with her cleverness when she speaks. No one has seen the young woman before, but the princess insisted on her, despite her apparent lack of noble birth. And so Lady Penelo trails the queen-to-be as she paces the halls.

"Will Vaan come?" Ashe asks.

"He says he'll try. Which means he'll be here," Penelo smiles reassuringly.

"Good."

"You got Basch's letter, right? He's sorry he can't make it."

"It is to be expected. After all, he has a new post now. We all do."

"Larsa sends his regards, too.

"He has promised to visit formally as soon as his obligations allow. It is custom for him to do so. Likely, Basch will accompany him."

Penelo's eyes light up, "I hope they visit soon!"

"If you stayed, it would be easier for you to see them." Ashe casts a teasing glance at Penelo. She knows very well why the blonde girl cannot – or will not – stay. Her heart is with Vaan and Vaan's heart is in the sky. Still, it can hardly hurt to suggest.

Penelo tosses her head, "If only. I bet Vaan won't let me spend my share of our treasures on dresses like these. Anyway, Vaan wants to leave the city as soon as he finds a ship. I don't know how long we'll be gone for this time..."

Ashe pauses, confused, "What happened to the Strahl?"

"Well," Penelo says, "it's gone missing." Neither woman speaks, but the unspoken meaning of this fact is enough to keep them both lost in thought.

"Did you hear of my latest marriage proposal?"

"Another one?" Penelo sighs, "I don't know if that's a blessing or a curse. Who's it from?"

"Al-Cid."

Penelo positively glows with the thought, "Oh, Ashe, he's so handsome! Will you accept him?"

"His letter was less of a proposal than a suggestion," Ashe muses, pausing to adjust a vase of flowers, "He has always had a way with words. I was quite taken with it, honestly."

"You should consider it. I think you two would be a good match."

"A prudent match at the very least. He is of suitable bloodlines to satisfy my ministers and yet he is low-ranking enough to leave my country in my own hands."

"Do you love him?"

Ashe does not answer right away. "No," she says softly, "I do not. But love is not considered in a royal marriage. It is simply a happy coincidence if it should flower." She smiles at Penelo, "I have had so much love in my life. That should be enough for me."

"My lady, a steward interrupts, "It's time."

The crowd roars as Ashe steps forward in the noonday sun. The crown of Dalmascan royalty, the one she remembers seeing on her father's head so often, rests on her own brow. Its solid gold bulk is heavy and uncomfortable. But Ashe barely feels it. Nearly all of Rabanastre had turned out to see her. Her heart swells with love for her people. She looks up at the clear blue sky and feels all her doubts and fears melt away. This is what she was born for. Her place is here. She raises her arms and the crowd falls silent.

"Dalmascans. My people. My friends. Today is a great day, not only for us but for all of Ivalice. Today is the first day of an era of peace. An era of rebuilding. And era of hope. By accepting the role as your queen, I accept this task. However, I have one request for you. Help me. Join me. We must move beyond our differences, our hatred. What has passed is past. What lies before us is great in scale and in potential. But together, we can achieve any goal we put our minds to. For those we have lost, let us move forward together."

The crowd cheers wildly, matching the frenzied pounding of Ashe's heart. She glances at Penelo and sees she has been joined by Vaan. He nods in greeting, his movements nearly noble but the strain on his face from holding back a grin is not. She nods back; she will miss the pair when they take to the skies.

Ashe turns back to face her people. So much has been lost in the past years… her family decimated, her country brought to its knees. And yet, she and Dalmasca both managed to come through their trials by fire and find themselves unscathed on the other side. She hopes Dalmasca will learn to find inspiration in her in the same way she found inspiration in _him_.

Halfway across the square, hidden by the shadows of the buildings, a tall lithe Viera stands watching. She shades her eyes, her face impassive as she listens to the newly coronated queen's speech. Only one used to the ways of the Viera would know that the slight twitch in her lips gives away the pride she feels in her heart for her friend. She turns back into the shadows, "You should move closer or you will miss her."

"Maybe it's for the best, Fran," the sky pirate replies, "She is her own woman now. Better for us to follow our own paths, wouldn't you say?"

"If that is your choice."

"Yet you still think me a fool?"

Fran nods quietly, scolding Balthier with her amber eyes.

"What would you have me do? Storm the castle and win her back?"

"'Twouldn't be hard. She would like as to summon a welcome guard and invite us to dinner." Fran's nose twitches, "The promise of free meals is one I know you rarely turn down."

"Unless it comes with the prospect of uncomfortable afterwards." Balthier sighs, "How can this be? You ask the impossible of me, you realize. She is here, where she belongs. And time has proven again and again that I do not do well inside stone walls."

"You are a creature of the sky, she a creature of the desert," Fran concurs, "Yet do not the sky and the sand meet in the end?"

"In the far distance, perhaps." Balthier steps into the sunlight, shading his own eyes from the sun. On the steps of the palace, he sees Ashe, the jewels on her head shining like a beacon of hope. "Fare well, Princess," he whispers, "Until our paths cross once more." He touches his fingers to his lips and waves the kiss toward her on the warm desert breeze.

The ceremony is longer than she had anticipated. Following her speech, Ashe introduces her people to the ministers she's appointed, all worthy and honest men and women. She stands through their own swearing-ins and speeches, wishing she'd thought to place chairs for those listening. She is used to the heat, but the flimsy court shoes have been too long absent from her feet. Her knees ache disappointingly quickly and she switches her weight back and forth with as much subtlety as she can muster. She hides one hand in her pocket, fidgeting with it as well. Her governesses would disapprove, but what can she say now?

_Al-Cid_, she muses, her pocketed hand turning a familiar silver ring over her fingers. Rasler's ring. Balthier's ring. She thinks over her words to Penelo. Has she had enough love in her life to lock her heart away? Her ministers will argue on the side of her own sensible words. She cannot remain alone. She needs an heir, to stand in her place after her. Al-Cid is almost a perfect match to join her rule. And yet…

She sighs, casting her eyes out into the crowd. Princesses have the luxury of being bored from time to time, but queens do not. Clearly, Ashe has forgotten this rule. As she idly scans the crowd, her heart suddenly lurches as if she were falling. In the far distance, she sees a man, his hand raised in a gentle gesture of offering. His movements are unmistakable, though she knows she must be hallucinating.

He stops when he realizes she has caught him. She smiles uncertainly; since the day she'd received the simple note in his scrawled hand, she had been happy just to know he still lived. Now, a month later and faced with his person, she wonders at his actions. He had promised her the world; why has he fallen back on his word? She wants to march down the steps and confront the blackguard, yet…

She meets his gaze and something inside her shifts into place. She knows something she hadn't known until this moment. She smiles at him, serenity floating over her. After a pause, he bows in return and with a quick word to Fran, he is gone.

Before, Ashe would have burned with scorn. But now, she knows that he hasn't broken his promise after all. He is still hers, that dastardly sky pirate. She is his anchor to the world below, something he'd never had before. She will see him again. Maybe not tomorrow, not next week, but he will always be there for her. And she knows that she will never marry.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story. As of right now, it is complete, but I may add more later, if the whim strikes me. Clearly, there is plenty more story here, but I worry about moving into material that drives focus away from the main love story. Anyway, please R&R!


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